this total breakfast of a cultural monstrosity,a graphic bacon-footed stance, a sow in violent laboura spanking collapse of democracy,a crown of bitter thorns in my gaping mouth- this clandestine automated theocracy where money and god are one

the hot blood of millions lingers like copperand grease, and rotted human fleshlike fuckheaded banter on amber-wash stagesat the back of this swollen tongue

and we count: a billion baked steel examinationsa wound or two in these shrill February suns

in the half-price dawnscape now, where the (r)evolutionary colours and footpaths speak

where all but cars and koolbardie are silentwe sit and breathe each othersedated